


In a Jam

by shadowmaat



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-04-05 11:15:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14043057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowmaat/pseuds/shadowmaat
Summary: Some tooth-rotting fluff based on the prompt:Neighbors who only meet because "I cannot get this stupid jar open. Can you help?"Finn is trying to have breakfast but may need to ask his neighbor for help.





	In a Jam

Finn glared at the jar on the counter. He’d tried everything: running it under hot water, using the rubber lid gripper, sliding a thin knife under the lip, and swearing at it. The jar remained sealed. His toast had long since grown cold and he was hungry, dammit. Sure, he could just use butter instead, but now it was a matter of principle. One way or another, he was going to get the damned jar open.

He heard a door slam and the floor creak, meaning his neighbor had arrived home. He’d never actually met them, but he’d sometimes seen a monster of a motorcycle parked in their space and had exchanged greetings with a sleek one-eyed cat on the neighboring balcony. He weighed humiliation over starvation and his stomach growled. Sighing, he grabbed the jar and headed out to the hall.

“Hello?” He knocked on the neighbor’s door. “I’m sorry to bother you, but-”

The door was yanked open and a white woman wielding a butane torch glared at him.

“Who are you and what do you want?” she demanded.

“Whoa!” Finn stepped back, raising his hands. “Sorry! Sorry, I didn’t mean, uh, I- I’m Finn? Apartment 218?” He gestured with the jar. “I was just looking for help with a- uh, with a thing, but if you’re busy...” he took another step back.

The torch wasn’t actually lit and since it was accompanied by a smear of grease on her forehead and grimy coveralls that read “Plutt’s Salvage” he thought it might explain the unusual choice in weapons. Her brown hair was pulled back in a series of messy and somewhat flattened buns and her face was all hard lines. He had no doubt she could take him apart before he managed to say “sorry” again and his heart beat a little faster at the prospect.

While he was babbling, however, the one-eyed cat sauntered into the hall and began stropping against his legs, purring.

“BB-9E, you stop that!” The woman demanded. 

The cat ignored her, weaving between his legs and forcing him to stop so he wouldn’t trip. His mind noted that the cat’s owner had an English accent, but his mouth, unfortunately, got stuck on the name.

“BB-9E?” His eyes widened. “Uh, not that there’s anything wrong with that! Great name! I should be going...”

“It’s the muffler part of a Tangent Motorcycle that makes it purr,” she said. “Why did you knock on my door, Finn from Apartment 218?”

He opened his mouth and closed it again. BB-9E’s purr got louder. He glanced at the jar in his hand. So did the woman.

“Uh.” He realized he still had his hands up and lowered them, holding out the one with the jar. “I... couldn’t get it loose, so I thought maybe...”

He had seldom been aware of the levels of his own stupidity before. He was also highly conscious of the fact that he was dressed in a pair of baggy sweatpants and a faded First Order Security t-shirt.

The woman’s face scrunched up as she stared at the jar. It wasn’t adorable. Nope. Not at all. She set the lighter out of sight and in two steps had joined him in the hall.

BB-9E chirped approval and added her legs to their circuit.

Finn found the jar snatched from his hand.

“Blood orange marmalade?”

“It- it’s good,” he said, trying not to sound defensive. His childhood had been aggressively no-frills. Now that he’d escaped he was learning to cherish even small freedoms like toast toppings. 

She arched an eyebrow at him. Also not attractive. Keeping her eyes locked on his she gripped the jar and twisted it. The lid popped off and she handed both back to him.

“Oh. Yeah, well, I probably loosened it up for you,” he said, face heating. “Um, thanks.”

She smiled at him and it was like the sun coming out. “You’re welcome, Finn. My name’s Rey.” She stuck out a hand. “Sorry for the suspicion, but you never know around here.”

“Yeah, no, yeah, totally.” Fumbling with the jar and lid he shook her hand. Warm, calloused fingers caught him in a vise-like grip before release. “Sorry for being suspicious.”

Another smile, even warmer than the first. “Not suspicious, just unexpected.” She tilted her head to the side, studying him. “It was nice meeting you, Finn.”

“Yeah! Same! I mean, meeting you was, y’know. Uh, thanks! Again. For the, y’know.” He lifted the now-opened jar, wishing he could shove it in his mouth to shut himself up.

“Any time.” She bent, scooping the cat into her arms. “Come on, Bee. Let’s get supper and head for bed.”

The door clicked shut behind them. Finn’s stomach gurgled, snapping him out of his musings. Night shifts were rough; he hoped she managed to sleep well. 

He wandered back into his apartment, staring down at the marmalade and wondering how many jars he could get her to open before she got suspicious.


End file.
